#I gotta get them finished and work on polishing them!

[howdidthisevenhappenanyway]

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in you wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it. and then tag as many people as you have wips

as I said last time this came round I have several hundred wips, so I’ll just put the ones at the top lmao

sin eater try three

wolffe and hound

fox and quin temple meeting

quin fox wing fic

tup gets tupped

sin eater try 4

sin eater

Quinlan was the corrie guard’s general the whole time

quinlan falls into dumpster

quinlan pulls fox out of the river

chocolate and caf and curls thorn x quinlan

quinlan catches thorn

biological persistance (wings on coruscant)

fox comes for the 212th

crush fox’s soul out of his body

cultural ness

undercover

migraine

sunny to sonia

droid brain 2

painting armour with bes

the wall

we were here

witcher/sentinel

rex comes back before promotion

shaak shmi

jango walks into eyayah cave

cody cocksucker

biological imperitive

babies

midochlorians is bugs

mushrooms cure chips

gladheonsleeps MAIN STORY

deaged clones ensemble

jeen tan takes korkie to obi

tagging @ceeeeeeleeeeeebriiiiiiaaaaaan @agoddamnedrayofsunshine @hiddenbyfaeries @navigatorwrongway @straycrayoncrypt @cassandrasdreamworlds @brightclearline @4701rose

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe. 

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps. 

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is. 

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss. 

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual. 

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath. 

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat. 

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs. 

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.” 

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed. 

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust. 

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow. 

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week. 

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side. 

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile. 

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you. 

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass. 

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water. 

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off. 

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time. 

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well. 

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you. 

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house. 

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change. 

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face. 

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full. 

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob. 

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb. 

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?” 

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop. 

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek. 

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew. 

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress. 

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances. 

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house. 

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in. 

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them. 

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered. 

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear. 

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek. 

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart. 

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep. 

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more. 

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs  and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck. 

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed. 

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine. 

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time. 

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. 

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.  

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado. 

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress. 

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue. 

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire. 

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh. 

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit. 

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over. 

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed. 

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you. 

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock. 

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his. 

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.” 

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust. 

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat. 

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine. 

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words. 

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours. 

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in. 

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you. 

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire. 

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead. 

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs. 

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go. 

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes. 

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please. 

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures. 

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud. 

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means. 

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn. 

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind. 

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day. 

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head. 

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back. 

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

[maplemoonarts]

Just got done pouring some new designs... we’ll see how they turn out tomorrow. One of them is a Valentine’s design, so I’m hoping it looks good! As for the other, it was an attempt at a possible galaxy vibe, but we’ll see how it turns out. Keep an eye out, might do a demold video tomorrow and post it here, we’ll see.

[psychicreadsgirl]

Pick a Painting : All about your next s/o

Pick 1 painting that draws you the most and I will tell you whatever I can pick up on your next s/o. If you are drawn to 2, then take a look at both readings. Remember that this is a general reading so not everything will apply. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't behind.

#1

Very easily depressed. Mental health is always a concern - doesn't mean they're bad people. Just that their mental health is particularly weak. Easily defeated and blue. However, they do feel things very deeply. Very emotional people. Very, very sensitive and intuitive - you won't be able to lie to them. It's like they have this 6th sense or can read your mind. Don't even try to lie to them - you'll just be caught. Not even a white lie please with these people - a lie is considered a really big betrayal to them. Though their mental health is weaker than average, they will be able to take bad news too. They aren't THAT weak.

Probably has a very creative or almost genius-like side. Very lost in their own world/sometimes will just go off and do their own thing. When they are focused on sthing, they will give it their all. The type to like not sleep for 2 days just to finish something --could be a video game, artwork, song, dance, Excel spreadsheet, code, math problem, clothing, etc.

Though intuitive - they can be kind of anti-social and don't really like to be around big crowds or people in general. Quite closed in and guarded. Think bc they can see so much of the truth they get really boggled down with that "negativity" or that "ugly" side of ppl that they don't want to be in contact with many ppl.

They have a lot of wisdom and knowledge - might not be like the typical "nerd" feeling, but they just know a lot about things that interest them. Could be some particular history or about some theory or painting or sciences etc.

They are shy with physical affection or don't like it that much. The mental connection is more important to them than the physical one. They may be asexual or some may struggle with their sexuality or sex in general.

#2

Life of the party. Very popular s/o and well liked by others. They probably have had many dating experiences -- might not mean they are a player. They probably don't like really heavy relationships and people who are too clingy.

They are really fun and adventurous. They are very playful and charming. They can be kinda forgetful too. They're warm and will remind you of the sunshine.

They sometimes can be ignorant of the world/others' feelings so can come off as being shallow or dense. They're either very intelligent academically or they do very poorly in school - sort of 2 extremes here.

They're either quite athletic or quite artistic. Generally they do have a decent physique like somehow muscular even if they don't work out much.

They're pretty laidback and overall chill. They definitely have very interesting stories to tell/share. Overall pretty independent people and somehow can make bajillion friends.

Sometimes they might not be the most reliable out there. They can often forget promises and also aren't the most responsible ppl out there. Likely to be late to meetings and dates. They can sometimes even forget to bring their wallet or keys.

#3

They can be kind of arrogant and self-centered. They are very confident of themselves, sometimes overly confident. They gotta be the one that make decisions in the relationship. They have a strong, commanding presence. They have this leadership aura like people just naturally want to follow them.

Likely to be quite successful in their career or comes from wealth. Can be kinda spoiled in some ways and also out of check with reality. Bad at saving money, a big spender in many ways.

A lot of people admire your s/o. They'll likely be quite good looking or charming - something about them that'll make people want to take a 2nd look at them.

They probably will dress quite well or at least in a polished way. Kinda classy or perhaps very street style. Either way they will have decent fashion and care a lot about their appearances. They will want you to also look presentable too, so no sloppy lazy attire when you go out.

They likely are friends with people of influence - could be famous or powerful or rich or all of the above. You might feel a bit overwhelmed by their connections or their lifestyle if you don't also have a similar background as your s/o.

They'll have some sophisticated flair/air about them. They are strong communicators and are quite persuasive. They know what to say to make your heart flutter. They may be manipulative though - so be careful.

There's probably some secret they are hiding - not sure what exactly but I don't think they want you to find out.

#4

They are very introverted and quiet. Very observant and detail oriented. Some may suffer from OCD or OCD-like tendencies. They can be obsessive over details. They can either be very very clean or be super super messy.

They probably will wear glasses or have prescription lenses somewhere. They may possibly have some tattoos or piercings or at least some prominent scar or birth mark.

They are pretty serious and aren't ones to really joke around. They can be sarcastic though. They may seem kinda gloomy but it doesn't mean they are very pessimistic.

They're probably night owls and hate the mornings. They probably won't like sweet things or will love them a lot - no between.

They can be kinda self-conscious and have a bit of low self-esteem. Could be bc they were bullied in the past or they felt they were really ugly before?? Possibly they were overweight when they were young and then teased a lot or bullied a lot so now they still got that trauma. Could possibly have suffered from some eating disorder too or went through some extreme diets.

Their physical health may not be that good like possible chronic illnesses or have gone through a major surgery/illness. Possible cancer survivor too.

They have a kind heart and probably love animals. They likely have a pet or if they can't have one due to allergies, then they would still like them.

#5

Definitely suffered from some trauma in their childhood or before they date you. This trauma will probably be pretty bad and severe - TW: sexual assault/physical abuse/violence etc. The abuse could have been very bad.

They are either in the healing process when they meet you or they're still deeply suffering from this trauma and won't admit it. Their inner child definitely needs healing.

They likely came from a family that was broken in different ways. Possibly the parents weren't available/died young or the parent(s) were abusive - could be verbal or physical etc. Or perhaps the parents favored the other sibling a lot and ignored your s/o. Siblings were very toxic to your s/o. Whatever happened your s/o did not feel loved by their family and/or they were deeply hurt by their family. They will likely have cut off from their family or will leave them shorlty after dating you.

They have a lot of sad undertones and when you look at them very closely, you know they have a story to tell. They are probably very animated/sociable so you might not even notice at first that they've suffered so much but when you look closer, you will sense that they've gone through a lot. If that's not the case they could be just very cold and a bit of a loner - like they seem strong on the outside but inside they are suffering.

They may not be super good looking but they have this attractiveness to them that draws people to them. They have that sort of mystery to them. However, they probably don't have many friends and stick to themselves.

They are interesting as a person and are self reflective. They have depth to them and can understand people well.

#6

They probably come from a traditional family or a very large family. They might have been in a religious family too or a cult.

They are either very close to their family or have completely cut off from them. There's no in between.

They can feel very lost at times. They aren't very sure of themselves. They have an innocent vibe to them. They also trust people easily, almost too easily. You'd want to protect them or look after them.

They are idealistic and sweet. They are gentle and probably have a sweet/angelic voice. They are friendly and loving.

They can be unrealistic so they will need someone who can ground them. They probably start a lot of projects and never finish them.

They need a lot of reassurance as they can sometimes lack confidence or get nervous easily.

They will probably have a rounder face or rounder features like rounder eyes, lips etc. They may be on the shorter side for height like shorter than average or they may just have a petite build like smaller bone structure. This doesn't necessarily mean they are very skinny - it's just somehow they will feel "Small".

They have a lot of youthful energy. They can sometimes say really dumb things even though they are clever. They're not very street smart. They probably will get lost easily. They also probably love food. They also are probably kinda lazy.

#7

They're probably very athletic or very into health stuff. They can be a fitness nut and they probably enjoy a lot of sports. They might even be some competitive athlete, possibly even an Olympian.

They seem to be able to do a lot of things like not just excel in sports. They might even have a creative side like filming videos or writing stories etc.

They enjoy travelling and love exploring. They love nature and being away from the city.

They're very daring and adventurous. They are very energetic and have loads of energy - almost too much.

They get distracted easily. They possibly suffer from ADHD or just have trouble focusing for long periods of time. They might not be able to sit still so they likely hated going to school (besides doing something more active).

They have strong golden retriever energy. They mean well but sometimes they can be too blunt. They also can sometimes be quite fiery and will definitely stand up for you when needed. They have strong protective energy too.

They also are probably romantic and will surprise you with little things. They will also remember anniversaries etc.

#8

They are very calm and collected. They are determined and responsible. They can be kind of boring sometimes. They stick to a routine and don't like to deviate from it. They are quite stubborn.

They are loyal to you. They are committed in the relationship. They care a lot about you but often have trouble expressing it to you. Sometimes you might feel like they don't love you but it's their actions that prove that they do love you. They notice the little details about you, including all your habits. They love looking after you and could even want to groom you somehow like maybe cut your hair/brush your hair/help you shave etc.

They can nag a lot and are passive aggressive. They can seem like a parent sometimes but they do mean the best for you.

They can have a controlling side. They're really into being efficient so sometimes they might forget that people have feelings.

To a lot of people they are workaholics. They also are quite responsible. If you're disorganized they will help you be more organized.

They're not romantic at all. They are very pragmatic so if you're thinking you're getting a romantic Valentine's Day, no that won't be the case. However they'll probably order your favorite food and help you clean up your place so you aren't tired after school/work/etc. They'd give you an expensive high tech vacuum instead of some necklace bc you really need one to clean up your place.

They can sometimes be a bit petty and yes they do bear grudges for life...

[citruswriter]

imagine raphs partner scenting him now that theyre together

scenting is the thing were cats rub themselves alllll over you to get their scent on you, like just imagine raphs gf aggressively nuzzling him while cuddling

imagine leos partner wearing a collar in his colour now that their dating

just the canine instinct to make it obvious whose pack their apart of, and whats more obvious than wearing his colour around their neck

mikey partner whistling to him and “preening” him (polishing and cleaning his shell)

most birds have a call and response whistle or tune for their mates and mikeys partner would definitely do that. polishing his shell and repainting the kanji on his shell

donnies partner absent mindedly having their antenna seek him out

moths use their antenna to smell, so naturally donnies partner’s antenna would lean in his general direction

Animal Love

Listen in with me! ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

A/N: Love how I said I was finishing the series and ya'll pull up like "but how about no?". 😭😂

Previous Part

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes.

It started as a joke. Vern had gotten you a dog collar in a pretty blue. It was cute and you gave a good laugh, until you saw the heart medallion, your name engraved on the front and the words if lost, please return to Leonardo Hamato on the back. Both you and Leo had been shocked but laughed none the less. Until he noticed you wearing it. You brushed it off, saying it was cute so why let it rot in your dresser? But you kept wearing it more and more. So finally Leo questioned you.

"Well um... it kinda ties into the whole canine thing?" You said, fiddling with the heart on your collar. "You know, make it obvious who's pack I belong to. Usually this would be done with things like scent. But not everybody would be able to just smell you on me. So the collar is a bit more obvious. Kinda itches my canine urges the right way". Leo just tilted his head, staring at the ceiling for a few moments in thought before nodding slowly. "O-kay. Yeah that make's sense. You essentially want people to know who you belong to." He pondered and you perked up, tail wagging. "Yeah! That's right! But also, if it makes you uncomfortable. I-I can take it off." You sputtered, eager to please him. Leo looked down at you, blue meeting gold and he just laughed. "No lotus, it's ok. I was just curious. That's all". He said before pressing a kiss to your lips.

You hummed against him, happily wagging your tail before pulling back. "Anyways," he said before sweeping your feet out from underneath you. You wheezed out a cough as your back smashed against the dojo floor. "Lesson two. Never get distracted".

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, angy kitty.

He had been gone for three days. Three days! And when he came back, the scent you worked so hard to leave on him was gone. How rude. So as soon as Raph sat down you lept into action. You huffed angrily as you crawled into his lap, aggressively rubbing your head and tail against him. Every time he moved too much, a growl would erupt from your throat and you'd just bonk him more aggressively.

"Work so hard. And then you just leave. Now I gotta do it all over again. Stupid fucking- It's all gone." You kept muttering as you worked. Raph just laid there utterly confused as you did whatever you were doing. Eventually he got on his phone to google whatever you were doing. "Oh your cute, babydoll." He laughed and you glared at him. "You're scenting me?" He asked and you glared. "Yes I am now hold still. Because the scent I worked so hard to leave on you is gone and I need to start all over again!" You seethed, utterly exasperated. Raph just held his hands up in surrender before placing them on your thighs.

"Don't act like you don't do it too." You growled, staring at him before bonking your head against his plastron and aggressively rubbing your scent all over him. Raph felt his cheeks heat up at the call out. He just let you scent him until you were satisfied. He could tell you were done when you pulled back, nose twitching, and you gave a nod with a proud smile. Raph just chuckled and pulled you closer to him, kissing you softly. "My turn". And before you could protest, he was all over you, returning the favor while you squirmed and giggled.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a moth mutant, eepy babies.

It had been another late night. Casey had asked Donnie to work on a new project for the NYPD and Donnie had been tinkering away for literally hours. You tried your best to stay up with him but the day had been long and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep. Your arms supported your head as you snoozed on his lab table. Donnie would occasionally look over at you to check in on you, sometimes stroking your hair or kissing your forehead. But hours later and he had yet to touch you again. He got so wrapped up that he stopped checking in on you, tunnel visioned on his project.

He looked over at you when he heard you whine. He moved his goggles up and noticed that you were still asleep but your antenna kept moving. He watched curiously as they twitched and wandered. You groaned and moved your body, almost as if you were about to wake up. Slowly, he brought his hand closer, allowing your antenna to find his hand and brush their fibers against his scales. Your wings fluttered softly and you instantly stilled. You had been searching for him. Even in your sleep, you were reaching out to him. He allowed the antenna to poke him and brush around his hand as he got out the notebook dedicated to his study of you and scribbled down some notes.

"Donnie?" Your groggy voice came and your lovely boyfriend looked over at you, eyes cracked open and arms stretching. You were barely awake and it was absolutely precious. "Yes little one?" He questioned, grabbing your hand and brushing your knuckles over with his thumb. "Mm. Bedtime?" Was all you came back with. Donnie glanced at his work before sighing. You heard him shift before you felt your body being picked up, melodic clicks erupting from your throat, causing the purple terrapin to chirp back in response. You smiled softly and nuzzled into him, whining softly as he set you down in bed but settling after he joined you not too long after. "Hush you". He whispered, pulling you close to him. You giggled, antenna and hands already seeking him out. You hummed as he placed a gentle kiss to your lips, you sleepily kissing him back. As the sun began to rise on New York City, you and your nocturnal boyfriend found peace in each other's embrace.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Mikey x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has large feathered white wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, sickeningly sweet sappy love (I love this man).

Mikey perked up as he heard a whistling noise echo brought the lair. "Hey angelcakes!" He called out before he had even seen you. A chorus of happy chirps was then heard before you bounded into view. "Hello, my love." You said, your voice a slight sing song. "Dude how did you know that was (Y/N)". Raph asked and Mikey rolled his eyes. "Come on brother, do you know nothing about birds?" He asked, already knowing the answer. He felt your arms wrap around his neck from behind as you leaned over the couch. Leaning back into your touch, you churred and nuzzled into him, ears twitching.

It wasn't long before you started to pick at the dirt on his shell and rubbing at it with your palm. He sighed. When the two of you got together, you became more comfortable touching him in general. But he soon noticed that you would start to pick at his shell and fuss over him in that avian way of yours if it ever got too dirty. This was your equivalent of you preening him and he enjoyed it, just not in the middle of trying to bet his brother's ass at COD. "Hey baby," he spoke up, making you pause and look up, "Let me finish this game ok? After that we can go to my room and I'll be all yours." You immediately perked up, wings fluffing in excitement before you skipped your way to his room to get everything set up.

A few minutes later, he finally joined you and he could tell you were holding back any further bird noises. He laughed and sat down. "Go at it, starburst". He encouraged and you immediately sprang into action. You began to gently scrub at his shell, chipping away the old paint on his shell before. Before long he heard you singing. Avian noises and humming left your throat softly in a pattern that would only come forward when you were with him in private. You took a gentle soap to clean at his shell before wiping it off with a warm wash cloth. He relaxed into your touch, churring softly and creating a sort of duet with you.

Grabbing the paint you looked at the symbol he always had on that shell of is in your phone. You practiced it so many times but you still had it just in case. Carefully you repainted the symbol onto his shell. When you finished, you and him softly spoke to each other. Gossiping about the latest drama and softly whispering tender love to each other.

Once the paint had dried, you grabbed the concoction you called his shell polish you spread it, the cold liquid making Mikey shiver. You spread it, taking your time and being thorough. You leaned up and kissed his shoulder before sinking back on to your knees. "Doing ok?" You murmured softly and Mikey nodded. "Perfect, angel," he cooed back. He always enjoyed moments like this. As much as he loved being the energetic jokester that never calmed down and couldn't take life seriously even if it strangled him, the calm and tender moments the two of you shared meant the world to him. "Gonna start waxing." You said softly before getting back to work. More time passed by before your whole process of "preening" him was finished.

"All done". You finally chirped and Mikey sighed softly. You laid down on his bed, opening up your arms to him with a soft pout. Mikey just crawled into your arms and laid on your chest. "So how long you gonna stay this calm?" You asked with a laugh and Mikey pinched your side, causing you to squeal and giggle. "Maybe fifteen minutes max. Got a lot of energy today". He mused, nuzzling into you. "Love you so much, Mikey". You said with an endearing smile and Mikey smiled back up at you. "I love you too, angel." He said, pressing a kiss to your lips. But he pinched your side again and you pulled back to glare at him. "I lied. I'm energetic again right now."

This is so tooth rottingly sweet and cringy. I love it. Please rot ur teeth with me. Donatello and Mikey my beloveds.

[heartlesscorpse]

Pyramid Head thoughts 2🩸🔪 △

MORE PYRAMID HEAD BRAINROT WOOHOOO— Hell yeah brother. Anyways OH MY GOD I was getting pissed off from this app bc I couldn’t edit this when I had it in my drafts for some strange reason BUT IT’S ALL WORKING FINE NOW. Yay. I’ve also been slowly chipping away at my Pyramid Head x reader recently for the past few weeks and it’s coming along smoothly (surprisingly), hopefully today or so it’ll all be finished and I can polish it for any mistakes or typos I accidentally made then it’ll be tossed onto AO3. :))))))

It’s difficult having to be roaming about Silent Hill knowing that he now has a companion of his own to keep company in this shit hole, it’s a nice thought but now there’s the hassle with keeping an eye on you at all times.

Man loves you but you gotta fuckin’ STOP disappearing from his sight whenever he looks away from you.

Stop getting into trouble damnit it’s a good thing he’d been stalking you the whole time but seriously you’re gonna give him a tiny heart attack if you keep doing this. >:(

This is why he ends up having to carry you around wherever he goes because you can’t slip out from his grasp and it’s easier this way to prevent you from running off.

Honestly, whenever Pyramid Head’s injured he’s not even gonna understand why you’re looking like you’re on the verge of bawling your eyes out.

‘Tis but a flesh wound’

But he’ll play along anyways if you were really worried and wanted to help him with injuries.

And he obviously enjoys the attention from you. :))

Cuddles 24/7, if you’re tired just take a break someplace safe and he’ll let you curl up in a ball in his hold, bc he absolutely adores having you in his arms.

Despite Pyramid Head not able to talk at all he does like hearing some of your rambles from time to time considering you’re the most talkative one between the both of you.

Pyramid Head likes giving you some small shiny little trinkets every now and then as small presents, bc you’re his and why the hell not shower you with some things every now and then?? He would’ve come back from patrolling around the town with some things like quarters, some pieces of jewelry, or weird little trinkets like teeth or small animal skulls, and those kinds of things if you’re into that.

He also likes receiving a few small gifts from you every now and then as well. Small things like little paper cranes or also some weird little trinkets you’ve been finding around Silent Hill, mainly bones, and you would craft into little charms. Gifts from either him or you would’ve all went into some ragged satchel you found so you could carry them with you at all times and you wouldn’t lose them.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "Payback time."

Charlie: "Oh Vaaaaaagiee~! You don't mind if I'm busy for the next hour or so? While I tenderly clean MY trident??"

Vaggie: "Sounds good babe. I'll watch."

Charlie: "I'm probably not gonna be able to pay aaaany attention to you at all! I'm probably gonna be too busy, running this soft bit of cloth all over every inch of-"

Vaggie: "You missed a spot."

Charlie: "-huh? Where?"

Vaggie: "Up and to the left. Your left. Not that far up-"

Vaggie: "-here, let me?"

Charlie: "But I already cleaned that part!"

Vaggie: "You gotta actually polish it, sweetie. Just wiping at it with a cloth won't work. Look. See?"

Charlie: "I guess..."

Vaggie: "It's got little micro scratches in the metal where blood and stuff can get trapped in. As long as they're not too deep you can clean them out with a good hard rubbing and some oil, but if they're any worse than this you'd have to buff everything down so it smooths out again."

Charlie: (slumping) "I can't believe this."

Vaggie: "It's alright Charlie. I'll do the polishing until you figure things out."

Charlie: (groaning) "Whyyyyyyy."

Vaggie: "Angel blood is corrosive even when dried so you don't wanna let it hang around. Especially we wouldn't want it to hurt such a pretty lady like this, now would we. Right?"

Charlie: (Glowering) "Right."

Vaggie: "That's my girl."

Charlie: "Thanks."

Vaggie: "...uh..."

Charlie: "...you were talking to the trident, weren't you."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "Have fun with that, Vaggie. I'm gonna go check on the hotel."

Vaggie: "Wait, sweetie-"

Charlie: "Hmmm?"

Vaggie: "You haven't even seen what oil to use yet-"

Demon Charlie: "-IT'll BE WITH BOILING OIL AT THIS RATE."

Vaggie: "That... probably wouldn't hurt metal that got forged in hellfire, but you could just use room temperature."

Demon Charlie: (on fire) "NO!"

Vaggie: "Point is to reach all these little tricky spots."

Demon Charlie: "DON'T WANNA."

Vaggie: "You gotta be thorough, take your time, be attentive. It's kinda like when we-"

Demon Charlie: "So help me Vaggie do NOT finish that sentence!"

Demon Charlie: "...Vaggie? Vaggie, I really AM leaving this time- Vaggie are you even LISTENING TO ME!?"

Vaggie: "Mm-hm. I love pole arms too, hun."

Demon Charlie: "ARGH!!!"

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Mafia Inspired Posepack

DOWNLOAD

2 years ago, my good friend @rebouks, also known as Rebecca creating a Peaky Blinder-inspired group pose pack *THIS*, inspired me to make my own version with a unique twist. This time, I used artwork Some from the "Mafia" game series as the basis for my poses. I hope you enjoy this pose pack!

Author's Note

You Need:

Andrew's Pose Player

@twistedmexi Searchable Pose Player

Weapons Included: "Gotta Keep it Real"

Smith & Wesson Model 10

The Smith & Wesson Model 10 is like the classic rock of revolvers—timeless and reliable. This baby has been around since the late 1800s, and it’s still a favorite among folks who appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship. It’s a simple, no-nonsense .38 Special revolver that feels solid in your hand and gives you that satisfying "click" when you pull the trigger. With its sleek design and smooth action, it’s perfect for both newbies and seasoned shooters. Whether you’re heading to the range or keeping it for home defense, the Model 10 won’t let you down. Plus, it's easy to load and unload, making it user-friendly for everyone.

Smith & Wesson Model 20

The Smith & Wesson Model 20 is like the hidden gem in the revolver world. It’s not as well-known as some of its cousins, Model 10. but it packs a punch and offers some solid features. This wheel gun is chambered for the .38 Special, making it an excellent choice for both target shooting and home defense.

One of the standout things about the Model 20 is its smooth trigger pull and Bigger Frame. Some people said "Size Matter" and Model 20 defintely One of them!, which makes for an enjoyable shooting experience. The gun has a nice heft to it, giving you a feeling of stability and control. Plus, it has a classic look that screams quality, with a design that’s built to last.

Smith & Wesson Model 27

The Smith & Wesson Model 27 is like the high-end sports car of revolvers. It’s got style, performance, and a bit of flair that sets it apart from the crowd. Chambered in .357 Magnum, this beauty is not just about looks; it delivers some serious power and accuracy.

With its sleek lines and polished finish, the Model 27 feels great in your hand and looks even better in a display case. The double-action mechanism is smooth, making it easy to shoot accurately. Plus, it’s got a solid reputation, having been a favorite among law enforcement and enthusiasts for decades. Whether you're hitting the range or adding to your collection, this revolver has the chops to impress.

Colt Detective Special .38

The Colt Detective Special .38 is a classic revolver that’s been a go-to for police detectives, especially those working undercover but it's Not Limited To Some Mob who lucky enough to get their Hands on it!. Compact and easy to conceal, this wheel gun offers a perfect blend of reliability and simplicity. It’s got a sleek design that makes it ideal for discreet carry while still packing a solid punch.

With its double-action mechanism, it’s quick to draw and fire, which is crucial in high-pressure situations. The Detective Special is known for its accuracy and smooth trigger pull, making it a favorite among those who need a dependable sidearm. Whether you’re in law enforcement or just appreciate a well-crafted firearm, this revolver has a timeless appeal.

Sawed Off Shotgun "Lupara"

The sawed-off lupara is a classic piece with a bit of a rebellious edge. Originally hailing from Italy, this short-barreled shotgun is known for its compact size and powerful punch. With the barrel cut down, it’s easy to handle and perfect for close-quarters situations, making it popular among those looking for something discreet yet effective.

The lupara has a rugged, no-frills look, often associated with the rustic lifestyle and a bit of outlaw charm. Its twin barrels can fire both buckshot and slugs, giving you flexibility depending on the situation. Whether you're in the field or just admiring its craftsmanship, the sawed-off lupara has a gritty allure that’s hard to resist. also Perfect Hammer in case you want to Whack Some Rats Or Rival Family, Mafia Style!

Thompson M1928

"The gun that made the twenties roar" Here We go! This is the stuff of legends. This iconic submachine gun is famous for its sleek design, distinctive curved magazine, and, of course, its roaring firepower. Originally developed during the Prohibition era, it quickly became a favorite among gangsters and law enforcement alike.

With its heavy, solid feel and classic wood furniture, the Thompson looks and feels like a piece of history. It’s chambered in .45 ACP, delivering a satisfying kick and a distinctive sound that turns heads at the range. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just looking for an unforgettable shooting experience, the "Chicago Typewriter" is sure to impress.

Winchester Model M1897 "Trench Gun"

The Winchester 1897 Trench Gun is a true piece of American history. Known for its rugged design and reliability, this pump-action shotgun was a staple for soldiers during World War I and Bring Them to Victory. With its short barrel and heat shield, it was built for close-quarters combat, making it a favorite among troops in the trenches.

The action on this beauty is smooth, and it packs a serious punch with its 12-gauge shells. The classic look, complete with wood furniture and a solid build, gives it a nostalgic charm. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just love shooting, the Winchester 1897 is a standout that never goes out of style.

THANK YOU!: @bdangkingfish

@cctreasuretrove

@exzentra-reblog

@decadesfinds

@coffee-cc-finds

@ts4cc-finds

@ts4-poses

@ts4history

@ts4historyccfinds

@sims4historicalccfinds

@historicalsims4

@sssvitlanz

[brodygold]

My New Place

A collab with @rossgold-drone110. Thanks for helping me flesh this idea out bro!

It all started when Matt joined the Golden Army Gym, the newest, flashiest gym in town. It wasn’t just a gym—it was practically a phenomenon. Ads were everywhere, promising not just a better body, but a “better you.” Matt had been hooked immediately, signing up on the first day.

“They’ve got it all,” he raved. “State-of-the-art equipment, personalized training, and this cool uniform thing they do. You’d love it.”

“Uniform?” I asked skeptically.

“They give you this black Fred Perry polo when you sign up. It’s got gold details and looks sick. Everyone wears it while working out. It’s part of the vibe.”

At first, I chalked it up to just another gimmick. But soon after, Matt started changing. His physique transformed almost overnight—his arms thickened, his shoulders broadened, and his chest looked like it had been sculpted out of stone. His personality, though, seemed to shrink. He became quieter, less expressive, and his enthusiasm for anything outside the gym faded.

A week later, Matt convinced me to come check it out. “You’ve gotta see this place,” he said, his voice strangely monotone. “It’ll change your life.”

The gym was a sleek, intimidating space, with polished black floors and golden accents. Everyone there was… perfect. The members moved with a mechanical precision, their black polos gleaming with sweat as they worked out in eerie silence. The sound of clanging weights and treadmills filled the air, but there was no chatter, no camaraderie—just focus.

Matt was waiting near the squat racks, looking even bigger than before. His polo clung to his torso like a second skin, accentuating his bulging biceps and the deep ridges of his abs. His usually messy hair was now slicked back, and there was a strange glossiness to his eyes, like he wasn’t entirely… present.

“Hey, Matt!” I called out, but he didn’t respond. He finished his set with a robotic precision, then turned toward me with a vacant smile.

“You made it,” he said, his tone flat. “I told you this place is amazing. You should join.”

Something about his demeanor set me on edge. “Matt, are you okay? You’ve been acting… weird.”

“I’ve never been better,” he replied, his vacant smile not fading. “Here, let me show you around.”

As he led me through the gym, I noticed more unsettling details. Everyone was wearing the same tight black polo, their faces blank, their movements unnervingly synchronized. Some of them had black rubber masks covering their faces, smooth and featureless except for small slits at the mouth and nose. The sight sent a chill down my spine.

“What’s with the masks?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“They’re for the advanced members,” Matt said, his tone almost reverent. “When you’ve truly embraced the program, you get one. It’s part of becoming… perfect.”

Matt brought me to the front desk, where a staff member handed me my own black polo. “Put it on,” Matt urged, his eyes glinting with an intensity that made me hesitate. “You’ll feel it right away.”

Against my better judgment, I slipped the polo over my head. The moment it touched my skin, I felt a strange warmth spread through my body. The fabric clung to me like it had been custom-made, and I could feel it tightening slightly, as if it were adjusting to my form.

“You feel that?” Matt asked, his voice suddenly more animated. “That’s the first step. Now hit the weights.”

I was reluctant, but Matt’s insistence and the strange pull of the polo made it hard to resist. I started lifting, and with each rep, I felt stronger. My muscles burned, but it was a good burn, an addictive burn. The polo seemed to be fueling me, pushing me harder and harder. My arms swelled, veins popping to the surface. My chest expanded, and my abs became more defined with every crunch.

At first, I was thrilled. I had never felt so powerful, so alive. But then, my thoughts started to blur. The idea of stopping seemed… wrong. All I wanted was to keep going, to push harder, to be like the others.

I turned to Matt, desperate for help, but he was already gone—mentally, at least. As I watched, two staff members approached him, carrying one of the black rubber masks. Without hesitation, Matt knelt before them. They slid the mask over his face, and he let out a shuddering breath as it sealed tightly. When he stood again, he was unrecognizable. The mask covered every feature, leaving him an anonymous drone. His body moved with even more precision now, his posture impossibly rigid.

“Matt!” I shouted, trying to snap him out of it. But he didn’t even flinch. He turned and walked away, blending into the crowd of other masked drones.

Panic set in. I clawed at the polo, trying to rip it off, but it wouldn’t budge. My body was still growing, my muscles inflating beyond anything I thought possible. The polo grew tighter, almost like it was merging with my skin. My mind was slipping, my thoughts consumed by a singular urge to join.

“Need some help?” a voice cut through the haze.

I turned to see a man standing nearby, his golden soccer jersey gleaming under the gym lights. He was tall, broad, and radiated an almost otherworldly confidence. His smile was easy, but his eyes were sharp.

“Name’s Brody,” he said, extending a hand. “You look like you’re in over your head.”

“I—I can’t stop,” I stammered. “They’ve got Matt. They’re… they’re turning him into one of them.”

Brody nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, that’s what the black polos do. They take you over, make you mindless. But you don’t have to go down that path.” He reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a gleaming gold soccer jersey.

“This,” he said, holding it out to me, “is your way out. Forget the drones. Join the real Golden Army. We’re not about mindlessness—we’re about excellence.”

I hesitated, staring at the jersey. The black polo was still pulsing against my skin, trying to keep me under its control. But something about the gold jersey called to me. I grabbed it and tore the polo off, gasping as the hold it had on me broke.

The moment I slipped on the gold jersey, a surge of energy coursed through my body. My muscles exploded with growth, stretching the fabric of the jersey to its limits. My biceps became huge, my shoulders broadened into massive slabs, and my legs thickened with pure power for the soccer field. My mind cleared, replaced with a sharp, confident focus.

I looked at myself in a nearby mirror, barely recognizing the golden-clad, muscular jock staring back at me.

“Welcome to the team,” Brody said, clapping me on the back.

I turned back toward the gym floor, now seeing the drones for what they were: hollow shells of their former selves. Matt was among them, his rubber mask gleaming under the lights.

“What about him?” I asked, my voice deep and commanding now.

“What about him?” Brody asked. “He’s found his place in life, just like you.”

I thought about it more, and realized Brody was right. Why shouldn’t I be at the top? It’s only natural that I’d end up here. I’d been going to the gym for years, hadn’t I? The soccer practice certainly helped too. The more I questioned it, the more things made sense. I was never a nerd! I was a jock through and through with my pal Brody.

As Matt and I walked out of the gym together, I felt a sense of purpose like I’d never known before. I wasn’t just a new man—I was part of something greater, something golden. Matt had his place, and so did I.

[pedropascallme]

Lessons in Patience

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v, spanking, biting, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), very brief mention of bondage, brattamer!Damien, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, cum play, daddy kink, praise, degradation (use of the word slut. Like, a lot), if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Guys I might be a whore. And also I don't know how Elden Ring works.

The room was still. Only soft background noise reminded you of your surroundings; the dishwasher churned across the house, loud enough to hear it from behind the closed door of the bedroom. In the far corner, Damien sat at the computer, and you listened to the inconsistent clicks of the keyboard and brush-like strokes of the mouse. The TV at the foot of the bed where you lounged played reruns of shows you’d never watched when they were originally airing, and the lull of voices and laugh tracks roused you from an otherwise silent repose.

You liked the lazy days; the days when you had nothing to do, when Damien had nothing to do, when neither of you had anywhere to be, and neither of you had anything to get done; you could just take up space in the house together without the fear of being late to something, or worrying about whether you’d be home for dinner.

Really, beyond that, it was about the love you had for him even in the stillness; the way his presence soothed you from across the room, the occasional moments where he’d disconnect himself from whatever he was messing with on the computer to grab at your leg lazily and squeeze your thigh—like he was relieved to feel you still there next to him.

It was a relief to have an unhurried day, where you could dawdle and stay in bed and do nothing. But days like this always gave you the time to let your mind wander—allowed you to fantasize about all the things that could take up the quiet space of the bedroom. And Damien was always at the center of your thoughts, always in the foreground of your daydreams, making you feel warm and fuzzy.

And who could blame you? He sat with his back to you in the desk chair, long-sleeved shirt hugging his biceps, and you could make out the faint lines of his shoulder blades when he stretched. His hair, grown out enough now that his brown roots were visible under the silver dye, fell over his ears and eyes, and curled inwards at the nape of his neck. When he pushed his bands from his face, you could see small tan lines that had formed on the fingers he usually wore rings on. You bit your lip, recalling the contrasting feel of the cold metal and his warm hands against you. Inside you.

His nail polish was chipped, maybe you’d paint them for him tonight.

Still half-dressed in just a shirt, fabric barely hitting your thighs, you stretched yourself out of bed; your feet hit the floor before you actually stood up, back still resting on the mattress before you found the motivation to push yourself off with your elbows and stand up straight.

You padded over to Damien and wrapped your arms around his neck, hands falling over his front and nails scraping gently at his chest and stomach. He reached behind the chair, trying to pull you forward and allow himself to get a better grip on your waist.

“Hi, baby,” He turned the chair slightly and encouraged you to face him.

“Hi,” You followed his lead, situating yourself to stand between his knees, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down to kiss him. “I want you, Damien.”

“Me, Damien?” He laughed up at you, and you made a face in jest.

“Please?” You tugged on his shirt, bunching the fabric over his chest and pulling. He held your wrist limply in his hand.

“I gotta finish here,” he removed your grip from his shirt and kissed your knuckles, “Then I’ll give you anything you want, princess.”

“You have to finish playing Elden Ring?” You ribbed his professional tone, “That’s a must right now?”

“Just need to—I’m running through it so that I know what to expect on stream. I'll be at a save point soon.” He reached out to trail his fingers over the exposed part of your thigh. You hummed at the contact, the heat from his fingers leaving a gentle path over your skin. You wanted so desperately to have him, to feel all of his body against you, but you respected that he was in the middle of something.

Still. That respect only went so far; if it had been emails, Smosh related or otherwise, or editing, maybe you would’ve exercised more patience. Would’ve crawled back into bed and turned up the volume on the TV a bit to keep yourself occupied. But both of you knew Twitch streams were of a more minor importance to him than something like voice acting calls with his agent or zoom calls with coworkers; you considered his transparency about what he was doing as him giving you permission to play dirty.

Especially since you could tell he was nearly done with this run through—you recognized the save point as it approached.

“Ok,” you purred, the picture of innocence despite the thoughts running through your mind, “I’ll just start by myself.”

“Yeah?” Damien looked up at you, turning his chair back to face the computer with his brow raised, amused. “Good luck.” He resumed the game.

You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing.

You lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers gliding over the skin of your stomach and downward to your cunt. You pressed two fingers to your clit, working up the courage to make a sound, give him a signal that you had followed through on your threat. Your body responded in kind to the feather light touches you gave yourself, and without having to try, a breathy moan escaped your throat.

You watched Damien square his shoulders.

“Better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He didn’t turn around, still moving the mouse.

“Just making good on my promise." You whispered, sweet and quiet. You continued rubbing circles over your clit, exciting the nerves throughout your body, the natural lubricant of your slick becoming more apparent as your arousal grew.

Damien turned the chair around, still sitting as he watched you touch yourself. You paused your movements to make eye contact with him, and you could see the way his eyes darkened when he lowered his gaze and saw your hand connected to your bare cunt.

“Well keep going, then,” his voice was like gravel, “You want to do it yourself? I won’t stop you.” He folded his arms, nodding at you, “Let me see you struggle to make yourself cum, baby. Want to see how hard it is for you to do what I do.”

His words ignited something inside you; fueled by playful spite and an urge to continue your bratty show, you plunged two fingers into your heat. You took a sharp breath, lips parted as you curled your fingers to press against the soft flesh within you. The muscle in Damien’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared just enough for you to notice. You just smiled.

“Feels good, daddy.” You squirmed slightly around the intrusion of your own fingers. In truth, your own hands could never provide the type of bliss his could; yours were smaller, shorter, all-around inferior to his when it came to providing you satisfaction.

But that wouldn’t stop you from trying. Not when you had a show to put on.

Damien shifted in his seat, bottom lip between his teeth while he watched you fuck yourself open as best you could. “I bet.”

You lifted your hips from the mattress, supporting yourself with your back, feet planted firmly on the bed. This new angle was a godsend; you could reach deeper within yourself, the crevices of your walls shifting around your fingers and showing you the hidden spots that knocked wind from your lungs. “Fuck—oh my god.”

“I’d have gotten you there by now, you know.” Damien seethed in his chair, unmoving, teeth gritted. “Would’ve been so much better if you let daddy do it for you.”

He knew you were struggling to find the tipping point, knew you had to stretch your fingers to reach the spots that required stimulation, knew you were imagining his hand instead of yours.

“Don’t need—don’t need daddy to do it for me,” your smile was absolutely devious, and the moans that fell from your mouth downright filthy. “I can do it by myself. I can…so close...”

“Show me, then.” He demanded, standing and making his way to the bed, “You don’t need my help?” He settled in the spot next to you, crowding you on the mattress while you drove your fingers in and out of your entrance, his lips brushing your temple when he spoke. “You don’t need my fingers? Hm? Don’t want my cock?”

Your façade faltered, but you managed to keep yourself distracted from his words with the way your fingertips grazed your most delicate spot. “I can—do it,” you reassured him, mocking tone coming across more stilted than you had intended as you wrestled with your own body.

“No you can’t, baby.” He smiled, hand coming to sit on top of your own, moving with you, “And if you do, you’ll be in so much more trouble than you already are.”

Something about his voice, the deep vibrations you felt in his chest combined with the soft touch of his big hand over yours; the mock frustration you had with him, and the real frustration you had with yourself as you tried desperately to cum; the way his eyes pierced through your own, it all worked together to spur you on. With the encroaching weightlessness you felt in your limbs, and his breath against your cheek, you finally reached the edge.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, grinning wide as you pumped your fingers in and out for the last time, letting the heel of your palm push against your clit. You were breathless, tired, but not as satisfied as you knew he would’ve made you.

You turned to him, and he already had his gaze fixed on you.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumbled, “Felt good.”

“Just good?” Damien stared you down, removing his hand from yours. “We both know that good isn’t good enough for you.”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to do it.”

“Yeah. I am.” He stood again. Before you could ask where he was going or what he was planning, he wrapped his hands around your ankles and pulled you sideways over the mattress until your legs hung over the side of the bed. He flipped you onto your stomach, raising the hem of the shirt you still wore to expose your slick-coated cunt.

“You’re so impatient, baby. If you wanted to cum, you could’ve just asked.” You could feel the fan of his breath, cold against your wet cunt, as he kneeled behind you, face centimeters from your entrance. “But since you put on such a nice show, I think I’ll do you one better.” He admired the sight before him, one finger trailing over your slit to collect your wet. He pulled back and sucked the gathered moisture from his hand.

“Oh, I bet,” you goaded him, even despite the position you were in and the punishment you knew you deserved. “This isn’t much of a punishment, daddy.” You giggled into the blankets, bunching the comforter against your face to cushion you and hold the noises you made.

“We’ll see.” He straightened out slightly and delivered a hard smack to your ass. You yelped, moaning at the sting and suddenly ready to obey his every word. “Count them.”

“Was that—does that count as one?” You questioned, sticking your ass out for him and waiting for his hand to come down again.

“Princess, you really think that all you’re getting is a spanking?” Damien soothed the skin he had just slapped, rubbing his palm in circles over your ass. “Didn’t say I wanted you to count the spanks, baby.”

“So wh—Oh, my god—” You couldn’t form the question, and as it turned out, you didn’t have to ask at all—he was one step ahead of you. His fingers plunged deep into your entrance and immediately sought out the spot you’d had so much trouble finding just minutes ago.

“You’re gonna count how many times I make you cum." He bit into the flesh of your ass before trailing his tongue down and over the skin of your thigh, eager to sample every inch of you, undeniably turned on after watching you fight so hard to make yourself cum. “And you’re going to tell me how good daddy makes you feel. And you’re going to say thank you every time.” You let out a low moan of his name, and his hand connected in a sharp smack with your ass once more. “What'd you say?”

“Yes, daddy,” Your words were muffled by the blankets you bunched in your fists, but that did nothing to hide the excitement in your voice.

“There you go,” he removed his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, “Knew my good girl was still in there somewhere.” He spread you open, spitting, and watching the strand of saliva drip down from your asshole and over your cunt. He leaned forward, giving in to temptation and tasting you.

“I am good! I can be good…” You whined, squirming at the feel of his stubble against your skin as he ate you like a man starved.

“Prove it,” strands of spit connected his mouth to your cunt as he spoke. He licked another stripe over you, biting your thigh, “Prove it, baby.” He returned to your core, licking into you and occasionally brushing over your clit. He bit into the skin of your other thigh before he again took to fucking you with his tongue.

You moaned at the feel of his teeth on your skin, and moaned louder when his tongue pushed into you. You reached behind your body, trying to find the leverage to push him further against you, but he grabbed your hand before you could lace your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think so,” he pushed your hand away and smiled at your frustrated moan. “I kept my hands to myself when you were playing, didn’t I?” You let out a quiet sound and he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp. “Words.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yes what?” He rolled your clit in between his fingers, torturously slow and forcing you to buck your hips into nothing, so desperate for more.

“You kept your hands to yourself.”

“So…?”

“So, I need to keep my hands to myself.” You whimpered when he removed his grasp on your clit, opting now to massage it with two fingers.

“Good, baby,” he praised, keeping his fingers steady on your clit. He spit onto your cunt again. “Remember that. Don’t make me tie you down.”

You whimpered at his words, hoping that he’d follow through on that threat—if not now, later.

“Oh, you like that?” He pushed three fingers into you, relishing how you arched your back and moaned his title. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you act like a slut.” He moved his hands in sync, fingers punching into you, his opposite hand kneading your clit. “Are you a slut, baby?”

You nodded vehemently, gripping the comforter, so close to the edge you could taste it. “Yes—yes, daddy!”

“Yeah?” He curled his fingers, letting them brush repeatedly over your g-spot until he saw your legs tremble. “You like being a slut?”

“O—nly for you,” you had to think hard to form any words, your brain clouded with pleasure, “Only for daddy.” You tried, and failed, to support yourself on your hands, then your forearms; the sensation became too much, and your arms gave out under you, leaving you to tilt your head back so that he could hear your cries without the comforter muting them.

“I know. I know, baby. Only for daddy.” He cooed, hands working in tandem to help you reach your high. “Let me see how pretty my princess looks when she cums for me. Show me, baby, show me what a good little slut you are.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; you felt your abs tighten, panting as your walls clenched around his thick fingers, and you let your head fall flat onto the mattress. Your thighs twitched, and there were stars behind your eyes when Damien curled his fingers inside you one last time, stroking the delicate spot within you in time with the patterns he rubbed over your clit.

You felt heavenly, satisfied now more than you had been after your own attempt; you were fully capable of making yourself feel good, but he was capable of making you feel absolutely wonderful, and following the orgasm you’d forced from yourself, the one he gave you was so much better—positively perfect.

Damien stood behind you, leaning over you to move the hair that had fallen across your face during your squirmier moments, and to kiss your head. You could feel his stiff length pressing against you, and despite the exhaustion you already felt in your bones, your eagerness far outweighed any fatigue you had.

“Remember to count, princess.” He whispered in your ear between soft kisses pressed to your sweaty skin.

“One,” you mumbled, “That was one. Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He licked a stripe up your neck, and you mewled for him. He flipped you onto your back, and you looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re gonna keep being good for me, right?” He trailed his fingers down your thighs, moving back up to ghost over your sensitive cunt. You nodded, and he smiled, sharp teeth threatening to poke over his bottom lip.

“Gonna be so good,” You stretched your arms out, and he pulled you up to him with his hands on your biceps. You let him take your shirt off, collapsing back onto the bed with your hands above your head and your wrists crossed, giddy. He remained fully clothed, the silver chain tucked under his shirt only given away by the shine that circled the back of his neck. You couldn’t help but stare.

How could a man be just as sexy fully clothed as he was when he was undressed? You didn’t know how he managed, but you ogled him all the same, even in your post-orgasm haze.

His hands continued to trail your now completely naked body; thumbs brushing over your nipples while his hands groped at your breasts leisurely, dipping down to squeeze your hips and waist before returning to your heat to tease you where you were already overstimulated. He leaned over you, taking one nipple in his mouth and alternating between rolling it between his teeth and sucking on the pebbled skin. You grabbed at the blankets, anchoring yourself under him.

He undid his zipper, removing his now painfully hard cock from his jeans and letting it rest over your cunt. You gasped, moaning at the weight and feel of him. You wanted so desperately to touch him, and as if he read your mind, he took your hand and guided it over his length, effectively ending the "hands to yourself" rule he had been enforcing.

“You’re being so good, princess,” he let go of your hand and you hesitated, waiting for further instruction. “Go ahead. You’re allowed.”

You hummed, fingers sliding over the soft skin of his shaft. You teased his tip with your thumb, and he bit back a quiet hiss.

“This is what patient girls get, see?” He stroked your thigh while you ran your hand up his length, “This is what good girls get when they wait.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You were muttering, craning your neck to see how your hand looked wrapped around him. You clenched around nothing.

He gently removed your hand, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and rocking into you slowly. You felt the familiar, welcome pressure in your lower half; the way your body made space for him, let him stretch you out until you were a perfect fit.

“God, you take me so well,” He groaned, pushing more of himself into you and reveling in the way your warmth sheathed him. “So pretty, letting me get you ready with my fingers. This is what you wanted, hm? Needed attention?”

“Yes, daddy,” you couldn’t hide the slack-jawed look of scatterbrained bliss on your face even if you wanted to. “Needed you to make me feel good.”

“Cause you can’t do it yourself, isn’t that right?” He bottomed out with a low moan. His hands rested on your hips, forcing his cock to stay buried inside of you.

“Only daddy,” you arched your back, legs coming to wrap around his hips and let him sit even further within you, “Only daddy can make me feel good.”

“That’s fucking right." He smiled, grip on your hips tightening as he pulled out and drove back into you, pistoning his hips at a pace that he had clearly set in his mind prior to even getting his cock out. His bottom lip sat trapped between his teeth.

Damien alternated between the perfect views he had; your face, contorting in pleasure, pleas falling from your lips, begging him to go faster, harder, do anything to you, whatever he wanted, as your eyes rolled back; and your cunt, wrapped tight around him, taking what he gave you, your thighs soaked with your slick.

You were the only person he ever wanted to look at.

“Oh—fuck, that’s s-so deep,” Your head fell back, pushing against the mattress, as the feeling of his cock brushing your cervix made your lip tremble. “Daddy, just like that.”

He watched your hands roam over your abdomen, situating atop your lower stomach and pressing against the bulge of his cock inside you. He growled, reaching to grab your legs and pull them up so that your feet were resting on his shoulders. Your lower half lifted slightly off the bed, big hands moving under the curve of your ass to keep you there.

“Look at you, baby,” he admired the way you let him throw you around, “Getting fucked out like the pretty slut you are.” He could feel your walls fluttering around him.

“I’m goi—I’m so fucking—” You searched for the words, not caring when you couldn’t find them; you were certain he could take the hint from your frenzied moans and repeated cries.

“Are you gonna give me another one, princess? You gonna let daddy feel you cum?” His brow was furrowed, and he looked almost empathetic through his colder, dominant bearing. He leaned forward, pushing your legs towards your chest with your ass still in the air, and the shift in angle made you scream, forgetting every other word you’d ever known and replacing them with his name. You clawed at his back, nails slipping over the fabric of his shirt, and he laughed through groans while he ground his hips against you.

And then you were cumming again, his name and his title falling repeatedly from your lips, a messy amalgamation of curses and whimpers that you cried over, and over, and over again. He let your legs fall to the side, and you wrapped them around his hips again. He stayed inside you, cock still hard, twitching with the pulse of your cunt as you faced the aftershock of your orgasm. He thrust into you shallowly, letting you reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. He bent over you, holding your chin between his fingers.

“What number was that?”

“T-two,” you felt loopy, and you giggled against his mouth when he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss he gave you felt chaste, almost shy, in comparison to the way he fucked you, but you liked it; it encapsulated perfectly what it was like to be his—safe and taken care of—and you loved it. You loved him. “Thank you.”

“Good job.” He whispered against your lips before returning to the kiss. “Knew you could do it. Knew you’d be good for me—just needed a little reminder, right? Needed me to put you in your place.”

You nodded, officially lost to the submissive fog of your mind, focused only on being obedient for him. “Need daddy.”

“You have me, baby. I’m all yours.” He straightened, taking off his shirt and tossing it haphazardly somewhere on the floor. His jeans and boxers followed, joining the heap of discarded clothing in the corner.

You stayed in the spot where he left you, sticky between your legs and entranced by every movement Damien made.

He refocused his attention on you, his smile almost serene despite the fact that you both knew he wasn’t done yet. He once again found himself next to you on the bed, situating himself facing you and admiring the fucked-out look on your face. You reached out for him lazily, and he grabbed your wrists, holding your hands and kissing over your knuckles just as he had earlier.

“C’mere,” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he rolled over with you in his arms, prompting you to straddle him. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Please,” You squeaked, hands trailing down the expanse of his chest and over his stomach, grazing his soft skin with a hungry urgency. “I want more.” You looped a finger through the chain on his neck before letting it unravel and going back to your exploration of his chest. "Make me take it until I can't anymore, daddy, please."

“Slut.” Damien shook his head, laughing to himself about the bright-eyed way you took your punishment. He pulled you forward onto him, and you sighed dreamily; the warmth of his body pressed against yours like pieces of a puzzle, flesh to flesh.

He snaked his arm over your thigh and under your body, pumping himself in his hand. His other hand pushed up against your ass, encouraging you to raise yourself up to give him the room to push into you. You obliged, and though he’d already fucked you, made you cum twice, and overstimulated all of your senses, the first shove of his hips still made you gasp, astonished by the stretch and feel of having all of him inside of you.

“Fuck,” He leaned back, hands rubbing over the flesh of your hips in a show of affection and power, keeping you steady as he bottomed out. “Greedy fucking pussy.”

You had your hands on his shoulders, muscles sensitive from your prior orgasms and unable to sit upright. But you were both content this way, with your tits accessible for him to toy with while he used you. He sucked on the plush flesh, watching as purple bruises formed and nipping at them before turning his head to make another.

The familiar tug of some hidden chord inside you grew steadily. Damien raised his hips off the bed, simultaneously pushing you down onto him by your hips, resulting in his cock driving into you as far as he could possibly go at this angle. You gave up on trying to support yourself, collapsing onto his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong princess?” He was taunting you, “Too much? Are you too sensitive to take what daddy gives you?” He wrapped both arms around your body, keeping you pressed against him as he thrust into you, hard and fast.

“N—o,” you moaned, unable to hide the satisfaction you got from his playful ridicule, “Feels—shit, I want—please, please, it’s so nice, daddy, feels fucking amazing.”  

“Yeah?” He moved one hand up to tug on your hair, easing you from your hideaway in the crook of his neck and forcing you to look down at him, “Tell me, baby, tell me how it feels when daddy fucks you.”

He kept his hand in your hair, the pull forcing your back to arch and letting him hit the best spots inside you. You weren't shy about the pleasure he was granting you.

“Amazing!” You clawed at his shoulders, shallow red marks that would fade within the hour painting the skin on his upper arm and over his chest. “Feels amazing!”

“What feels amazing?” He was smiling, taking great pride in hearing all the ways you responded to his movements and the way your mouth twisted to get the words out.

“Daddy—daddy feels so perfect inside me!” You practically sobbed it, overcome with the bliss of being full of him.

“That’s right. Tell daddy you love him.” He had to fight to hide the pleading cadence in his voice; somehow the strongest desire he had, even balls deep inside you, was hearing those three words fall from your lips.

“I love you,” You gasped, nails carving crescent shapes into his skin, “I fucking love you.”

He went slack jawed, the glee behind your words pairing perfectly with the way your cunt squeezed him. “I love you, princess,” He moaned it, “I love you so much.”

“Want—want you inside me all the time like this. Wanna feel you all the time, daddy.” Your legs hurt and your skin felt raw and tender, but, god, if you didn’t love moments like this.

At that, Damien let out a low growl, removing his grip on your hair and letting you rest your head on his shoulder once more. “God, you’re fucking needy,” he was fucking into you wildly, and the sound of skin on skin and the slick leaking from you created a chorus you could listen to for hours on end. “You want this cock all the time? Is that what you want?”

You nodded against him. “Please, daddy.”

“You just want to be all sore and sensitive for me? Let me fuck you all the time?”

“Yes! Ye—es!” You were drooling, the puddle of your spit mixing with the tears of elation that slipped from your eyes. Your clit dragged over him perfectly in this position, sending jolts through your already overstimulated body. You could feel yourself squeezing around his cock with every harsh ram of his hips.

“There you go, princess,” he felt it too, his excitement building alongside yours . “Give it to me, baby. C’mon and cum for me again.” He slowed his thrusts, letting you take what you needed; one of his hands found its way between your bodies and offered your sore clit a boost of stimulation.

That was what sent you over the edge—that, and hearing the way he praised you, the repetition of his moans and the way he called you so pretty, so good for him, an eager little slut who follows directions so well. You thought you might black out, so exhausted and spent, but still so desperate for him as you clung to his body through your orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” You slurred your words together, high off the pleasure that fanned out from your core and across your entirety.

"Good, princess, that's right. Such good manners." Damien stroked your hair. "Gonna fucking cum for you, baby. Give you a reward for being so good for me, fill you up nice and deep." His long, unhurried thrusts led him to his own high, which he greeted with a groan and a drawn-out sigh of your name. You moaned, feeling the warmth spread over you, and you lifted your head to connect your lips to his.

He took his time, licking into your mouth and savoring the way you whimpered into him; it was messy and sleepy, and paired well with the tacky feeling between your thighs as his cum dripped from you, mixed with your own.

Damien flipped you over, supporting himself on his forearms as he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, miles away, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and tears and spit, and he thought you were the most beautiful thing in that moment, and in every other.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you whined at the loss.

“Shh, princess, I know. It’s ok.” He ran his hands over your torso when he removed himself from you. “Hi, baby.” He ran his knuckles soothingly over your cheek, and you closed your eyes, humming. “What number was that?”

“Three.”

“Think you can give me one more?”

Your eyes went wide, and you bit your lip, unable to hide the dopey smile you got upon hearing his question. “Make me.”

“Fucking bratty—even after all this?” He laughed, kissing your nose before moving down your body and putting your legs over his shoulders. “You tell me if it’s too much now, alright?”

“I know, daddy.” Your words were defiant despite how limp and weary you felt. You stretched your arm down to stroke his cheek with the tips of your fingers.

“Think I would’ve fucked the attitude out of you by now.” He grinned, and you bit your tongue, giggling.

You watched him lower his face to your core, his breath catching on the sticky mixture that seeped from your hole and making you shiver. Damien savored the image before swiping his tongue through your folds, collecting the blend of your cum and groaning at the taste. You let your hands wander, one fondling your own chest, the other buried in his hair. Damien's hands roamed up and down your legs, brushing over your stomach and hips in an effort to ground you, to make sure you were comfortable and knew you were safe despite your current state of fragility.

Every movement of his tongue made you flinch, overly sensitive but loving every second you got to watch him between the V of your thighs. The light swipes of his tongue made the hair across your body stand up on goose flesh.

“Oh—” You let out a small gasp when he nudged your clit with his nose, tongue exploring your entrance. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightened, and he moaned against you; the vibrations made you tremble, and with little warning you were cumming again, whispering his name and words of praise and appreciation.

Damien rubbed your thigh, moving to lie down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. One of his hands pressed against your back, feeling your ribcage expand as you caught your breath.

“That was four.” You spoke after a few moments of silence, and he squeezed you against his chest. "Thank you, daddy."

“Didn’t even have to ask you that time.” He brushed the hair from your face and peppered kisses over your forehead.

“I know,” you leaned back slightly to smile up at him, proud of yourself, “I’m just that good.”

“So good. You’re so good for me.” He emphasized every word with a soft peck on your lips, and you laughed. "Always so good. So beautiful, so sweet, baby, and you’re all mine." His praise helped you come back down to earth, the haziness in your head caused by repeated stimulation easing up and being replaced by pure contentedness and tired eyes.

You realized the scratches you left on his chest were deeper than you’d intended for them to be, still stark against his pale skin, and you trailed your fingers over them.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to mark you up like that.” You lay your head against a pillow, intertwining your legs with Damien’s and looking up at him. You kept your hands curled over his chest, basking in the security you felt in the heat of his body.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he ran his thumb over your lips, and you kissed it, “You should see the other guy.”

“Bet the other guy is really hot…” You countered. “Probably really obedient, too.”

“Really hot,” he laughed, “But between you and me…kind of a brat.”

“Am not!” You pushed against his chest, and he caught your wrists, leaning forward to engulf you again and kiss your face.

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, “How’d we end up in bed like this?”

“No idea. I thought you knew…” You giggled at your own faux perplexity. Damien rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Do you want ice, baby? Or heat?” He nudged your nose with his. "I can run you a bath—or do you want me to get you the heating pad?"

“Ice.” You grabbed his arm when he moved to stand, “Later, though. Now I just want you. Please.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?” He returned to your side, letting your hands wander over him.

“You know, after four orgasms, you might think that,” Your hand came to rest on his stomach, tracing shapes over him, “But you’re just so enticing.” You toyed with his silver necklace. “Tell me, baby: was this worth the time you spent apart from your beloved game?” You teased, and he pulled you on top of him again, letting you sink lazily against him.

“Funny,” he smiled, one arm under his head to allow himself the full view of you on top of him. He ran his hand through your hair, lazy kisses landing on the top of your head, “Don’t tempt me to make it five.”

[dissapointu]

“A Stroke of purple”

You sit cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, a colorful assortment of nail polish bottles scattered around you like a little rainbow. The air smells faintly of acetone and lavender, the latter coming from the scented candle you’d lit to set the mood. It’s just the two of you here, the faint hum of city noise outside and the soft music playing in the background making the atmosphere cozy.

Vi, perched on the couch, glances over at you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Her usual rough exterior is softened today, her trademark black hair pulled back into a messy bun. Her shirt is loose, casual—no fights on the horizon tonight. Just the two of you.

“You sure about this?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. You’re holding up a small bottle of bright purple nail polish, the same shade you’ve been wearing for the past week. You’ve been talking about doing this for a while—painting Vi’s nails, giving her a little pampering—so now, here you are, with all the supplies laid out.

“Absolutely,” you reply, your voice soft but confident. “I thought it would be fun—something we can do together. Plus, you deserve it. I mean, you’re always out there getting your hands dirty, literally. A little color wouldn’t hurt.”

Vi chuckles, rolling her eyes, though there’s a softness to her gaze now. “Guess I do look a little rough around the edges.” She takes a seat on the couch, leaning back, hands resting on her knees, waiting for you to get started. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You beam, unable to help the excitement bubbling up in your chest. You pick up the purple polish and begin to carefully apply the first coat to her nails. Vi watches you, her eyes following your every move, as if she’s unsure of what to expect but willing to give it a shot. The quiet room fills with the sound of the brush moving across her nails, and you take your time, enjoying the closeness, the small moment of calm shared between the two of you.

“I’ve never really done this before,” you admit, focusing on your work. “But I think I can manage. You just sit back and relax.”

“I can do that,” Vi replies, her voice low and amused. “I’m curious to see how this turns out. You’re always full of surprises.”

You chuckle, a little self-conscious as you apply the second coat of polish, ensuring it’s even and smooth. Vi’s nails are slightly rough from all the fighting, the scars of her battles still etched in the way her hands move. But that only makes you more determined to make them look perfect for her. She deserves this small indulgence, even if she doesn’t show it.

Vi doesn’t speak much as you continue, but you can feel her eyes on you—the weight of her gaze steady, unwavering. When you finish with the second coat, you set the polish aside and gently pick up the top coat to give everything a glossy finish.

Once you’re done, you sit back and take a moment to admire your work, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “All done,” you say, gesturing for Vi to look at her nails. “What do you think?”

Vi extends her hand, the newly painted nails catching the light. There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes, a mix of admiration and amusement. She moves her fingers, studying the shine of the polish. “Well, well, look at that,” she mutters, shaking her head in disbelief. “Never thought I’d be the type for nail polish, but… I gotta admit, I don’t hate it.”

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m glad you like it. You look great.”

Vi lets out a small huff, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Maybe I’m not as tough as I thought I was, huh? But it’s nice. A little touch of you on me. Guess I could get used to it.”

You beam, feeling your heart swell at the simple sincerity in her words. “You deserve it,” you whisper. “You deserve all the little things, even if you don’t think so.”

Vi softens then, her usually tough exterior melting away just a bit. She leans forward, resting a hand gently on your shoulder, her eyes meeting yours. “Thanks,” she says, the word low but meaningful. “I know you mean it.”

You smile, feeling the weight of her touch, the connection between you both deepening in this small, shared moment. Vi might be rough around the edges, a fighter through and through, but she’s also someone who lets you in, someone who trusts you. You lean back, happy to be in this moment, knowing there’s no one else you’d rather share it with.

“You know,” Vi says after a long pause, her lips curling into a mischievous grin, “I think you should let me paint your nails next. Let’s see if I can do as good a job as you did.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but the thought of it makes you feel warm all over. “We’ll see. I’m not sure if I trust you with that just yet.”

“Oh, come on,” she teases, nudging you lightly. “It’s only fair, right?”

You roll your eyes playfully, but deep down, you know you’d let her do anything—because every moment spent with her, even something as simple as painting nails, feels like magic.

“Maybe next time,” you say, as you both settle into the quiet of the evening. But for now, you’re content, sitting together, with her freshly painted nails sparkling in the dim light, and the world outside seeming a little less chaotic for just a while.

And as you sit there, side by side, you realize that sometimes the best moments come in the simplest, most unexpected forms.

[raisin-writes]

Asking to paint their nails- Donquixote family:

sfw, no warnings, just for sillies :) read as platonic but can also be read as romantic (minus sugar- i dont care that shes 22- and dellinger, dont be a weirdo).

Doflamingo:

He prefers to call in a nail tech and have a little mani-pedi spa day with you instead.

It's nothing personal, he appreciates the thought, but if hes gonna get his nails done, he wants it to be professional.

Wants you to match with him more often than not and gets a little mad when you refuse to, but wont hold it against you for very long.

A classic french tip girlie but may mix it up with a nice pink or a light glitter overlay from time to time.

Trebol:

He'll allow it, but god does he make it an insufferable experience.

He loves messing with you by intentionally making his hand twitch/flinch/shake.

"Bweheheheh! oops, guess you gotta start over now!"

He'll finally stop when you threaten inform him that you only have so much nail polish remover left and he'll end up with messy, ugly, clumpy nails that you wont be able to fix.

He's fine with whatever you give him, just dont make it look stupid.

Diamante:

Absolutely!

He's tickled that you would want to spend time with him like that.

Requests things like flashy white or gold stars, sparkly reds, or a nice baby blue to match his eyes.

A little bit of a stickler about your technique, but he wont be too hard on you if you mess up.

It's just nail polish after all.

Surprisingly will want to paint yours in return to match his.

His technique is ironically not that great.

Pica:

...... Reluctantly agrees.

He's silent as he watches you work, but his gaze is very intimidating and scrutinous.

Kind of a mouth breather, dont comment on it or he'll get mad at you.

If you ask him very nicely, he'll let you experiment on his toe nails, painting them however you want.

He's satisfied with a simple matte dark purple, but his favorite is a metallic gold- not the regular nail polish, but the holographic powder, he likes the shiny chrome finish.

Vergo:

Some days he'll say yes, sometimes its just not a good time.

He's a busy guy, he doesnt have all the time in the world to sit down and let you fiddle with his nails.

Sometimes he just doesnt want his nails painted and thats that.

On the off chance he agrees, he prefers a simple solid black or a plain white.

Giolla:

Yes, but she's such a karen about it.

So passive-aggressive and indecisive.

Makes you never want to paint her nails again.

Likes loud, contrasting colors and sometimes fun stencil patterns.

She usually compliments your work after its over, but will sometimes make a back-handed comment if she isn't completely satisfied with the results.

Lao G:

Surprisingly agrees to it.

However, shaky hands make for many mistakes.

Dont bother putting a top coat on.

regardless of the outcome, he'll give you a thumbs up and a "GREAT WITH A CAPITAL G!"

Gladius:

Bully him into it a little and he'll cave.

He's used to this, having been the test subject for a younger Baby 5 when she first got into nails.

At least you seem to know what you're doing, comparatively.

Prefers plain black but can be swayed into dark colored marbling with gold flecks.

Machvise:

Another test subject for young Baby 5's nail journey, and Dellinger's.

He thinks it's funny to walk around with bright, obnoxious nails, but really could care less what you give him.

He actually kinda liked the time you gave him pizza slice nails.

Draws the line at press-on nails.

Sugar:

Allows it, but will very bluntly tell you you're doing it wrong.

The best compliment you will get from her is, "its not the worst."

She likes when you put cute stickers and stencils on a pretty pastel blue color.

Señor Pink:

Needs to be lead to believe it was his idea, otherwise the answer is no.

Watches intently, doesnt speak much.

Sucks his pacifier suddenly from time to time and the sound in the otherwise silent room makes you flinch.

He doesnt have any preferences, but appreciates when you make the color match his bonnet.

Might make you do his toe nails too so they match.

Viola:

Of course!

Her favorite is a dark mauve with white hand-painted flowers on the thumbs and/or ring fingers.

Dont worry if you cant paint the flowers correctly, she still appreciates it all the same.

She'll ask to paint yours in return.

Dellinger:

Slay 💅✨

You can use his nail polish.

Teases you if you mess up but genuinely starts to get annoyed if you make too many mistakes.

Likes cat-eye and holographic effects; don't worry, hes got the magnets and powders for it.

If he's feeling generous, he'll return the favor, but he might give you what he thinks would look good instead of what you want.

Buffalo:

Nuh-uh, no way.

......... Unless?

Easy to bribe into getting his nails painted.

Lets you paint them however you want, as long as you fullfill your end of the deal.

Baby 5:

Yes!!!

She loves getting her nails painted.

She'll even paint yours, however you want them!

She likes lace tips, but can easily be swayed if you think something else would look better on her.

(Please be kind to her; if you really must, meet her in the middle so she still gets what she wants.)

Bonus:

Bellamy:

Beg him over the course of a week and he'll eventually cave, but only his toe nails where nobody will see them.

Prefers plain black or navy blue colors.

Is very fidgety and uncomfortable the entire time.

(ironically, he doesnt like people touching his feet (he's ticklish))

Groans and complains, asking every 5 minutes if you're done yet.

Such a big baby.

Corazon:

Yes!!!

He's giddy at the thought, he would love for you to paint his nails.

Really, he just likes the quality time he gets to spend with you.

His favorite is a dark plum color with soft pink heart stencils.

He'll offer to paint yours in return, but knowing him, he'll just end up spilling a bottle or two.

Or three.

[snapscube]

Hi there I’m a relatively new streamer on twitch and have been at it for a bit, and I’m finally at a point where I feel confident enough in my setup and general content that I can make edits of my streams, but I don’t have the resources for an editor. I know you don’t really edit your vods (as far as I’m aware) but I was curious if you had any advice, especially with editing down 3-5 hour streams as I feel like I just get overwhelmed with the sheer amount of stuff there is to cut. Thank you for your time, I’m a big fan of your stuff!

I don't currently do the brunt of the VOD editing for the main channel, no, but I used to and I've done it a couple times since bringing on Ellie so I do have a couple pointers! So, first of all, I know it's so much easier said than done but legit at a certain point you gotta just hit the play button and start watching it haha. Sometimes I will only be able to edit a stream in like 10 minute chunks cause it's just so daunting and actively fights against my ADHD. But, even if the sessions I spend editing are short, as long as I'm still doing SOMETHING whenever I get even the smallest burst of motivation to just press the play button it eventually gets easier and, more importantly, gets done.

BUT in terms of my actual tips for the process...

Have a specific editing structure laid out. My recommendation: Watch through the VOD in full, don't worry about cuts just yet. Just write down timestamps for bits you want to include. Even better if you utilize the marker system in whatever editing suite you use to do so, as you can label them and see them visually on the timeline. MAKE SURE YOU WATCH IN 2X SPEED. It's gonna be a bit disorienting at first but I promise you, you'll get used to it and the time saved is gonna be so worthwhile. Then, once you've finished marking your VOD, start making cuts at those markers and copy the cut down clips into a NEW timeline. DON'T delete anything from the timeline you watched/made markers on, just copy stuff to the new one in chronological order. Once you have every marked clip copied over to the new timeline, do a watch-through of the rough cut you just made and start polishing up those cuts for pacing. This is where you can feel free to just slice the shit out of everything, don't be stingy, just do what works best for the video. If you'd like, an extra step you can do here is maybe add some more markers if a particular joke or flair edit comes to mind while you're making pacing cuts, just be sure not to get bogged down in the details just yet. Wait until after you've finished polishing the entire rough cut for pacing, and then you can start jumping to your markers and make the more intensive edits and polish as the final or near-final step!

Give this a try, or modify it to suit your own workflow/schedule! I hope it helps!

[fleurrreads]

pretty little rich girl

pairings: benny cross x fem!reader

warnings: some unwanted comments, bit of angst, happy ending(?)

author's note: based on this request! honestly don't know how i feel about this one, i might write more for them in the future.

Benny has seen many girls in his lifetime, but none of them have downright turned his world upside down. Until he met you. It was supposed to be just another night at the bar, until you walked in. All pretty in a little dress, pearls around your neck. You look expensive. Benny's eyes follow you until you sit down, probably with a friend. He steps closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You sit down with a huff, "Where did ya bring me, Kathy? Ya hang out 'round here?" You look around wildly at the bikers crowding the little bar. Kathy laughs. "Don't worry, darlin'. They won't do anythin to make you uncomfortable or somethin'. They're good people." Kathy finishes, looking over your shoulder, spotting Benny standing a few metres away. She smirks, "Okay listen, I'm gonna go get us some drinks, you want a pop? I'll get ya a pop." Kathy rambles, before walking off to the bar, leaving you alone. You look around warily, the bikers closest to you looking at each other, then at you, and then laughing among themselves. You look down, fiddling with your fingers. 'Hurry up Kathy' you thought to yourself, and a split second later someone sits down in Kathy's chair. But it's not Kathy.

You look up, seeing the prettiest blue eyes and you nearly gulp. Holy shit you think as you let your eyes travel the stranger up and down. He's gorgeous. The stranger looks in a daze, as he crosses his arms over his chest, muscles on full display. Before you say anything, he speaks and you think you could melt right there.

"I'm Benny." he says, his face nearly in a pout. You nearly laugh, the situation being so unorthodox. "I'm y/n. And you're sittin' on my friend's seat." you say, making him throw his hands up in feigned innocence. "Really? I didn't know. My bad, darlin'." He says in a husky voice, his eyes never leaving you.

You smile, "Yeah, but listen I gotta get home, so it was nice meetin' ya, but i gotta get goin'." You stand up, not bothering to look for Kathy, you'd call her later. Unbeknownst to you Benny gets up and follows you outside. As you make your way to the door you hear whistles and calls, making your stomach turn. One comment made you stop in your tracks. "Look at this pretty little rich girl, playin' where she doesn't belong." one of the bikers said, and you frowned.

Yes, you were from a wealthy family, but that doesn't make you just a rich girl. You have ambitions, you have dreams. You can be something other than a rich girl too.

You shake your head, pushing past people as fast as you can, trying to calm the tears that are threatening to spill. As soon as you get outside you take a cigarette from your bag, and sigh. "For fuck sakes. Where's my damn lighter." you grumble, emotions on high. Benny walks up to you, lighter in hand. Without saying anything he brings the light to your face, to your cigarette. "Thanks" you mumble, taking a drag.

You just want to go home. The past hour you've been here has probably taken three years off your lifespan. You sigh, kicking around a rock with your polished shoes. You would be able to enjoy this life, the freedom that comes along with it, if it weren't for people and their stupid comments. You'd finally find a place where you belong. Because it certainly wasn't with the rich kids. They always thought you were weird for having dreams like moving to a farm and building a life for yourself. Or moving to California to surf and working at a surf shop. That's why that guy in the bar's comment frustrated you. If you didn't belong at home, and you didn't belong here, then where do you belong? Benny clears his throat, you jump, forgetting that was there.

"Y'know, they didn't mean it like that. What they said back there. They 'just never seen a girl like you in our bar." he says, as if reading your mind. You scoff, taking another drag from your cigarette. "Yeah whatever, I don't really care. Probably won't see 'em again anyway. But you have a good evenin', Benny. It was delightful meetin' ya." You stomp out your cigarette, walking to the bus stop.

Benny offers you a ride home, because of course the busses don't run at 2am anymore. So you give him your address. As Benny takes a turn into your street you think of how vastly you differ from him. Him in his dirty leather jacket, his hair unwashed for probably a while, and his grease stained shirt underneath with his leather boots. To you, a girl polished by her parents to embody elegance, even though you were far from it. A white dress, pearls probably worth more than his bike, shoes polished and your hair neatly in a bow. A doll. A doll standing on a dangerous cliff, ready to jump down to whatever world Benny was involved in.

Benny pulls up to your house, and he takes a moment to study your house. A double story house, white picket fence, gorgeous porch running around the house. You were rich. He hears you sigh as you get off the bike, and he blurts out a question. "You wanna go to a meetin' with me tomorrow?" He looks at you, pretty dress now stained from sitting so close to him on the bike. He quite likes it. Him tainting your pretty little life. He can sense that you might like it too. You smile, "Yeah, why not. I don't have anythin' goin' on anyway." you nod, making your way to the white picket fence surrounding your house. You look back at him, his eyes sparkling with something you've never seen before.

"Well goodnight, Benny." you wave, making your way to your door.

"Goodnight, princess." Benny hums, leaning against his bike. Yeah he likes you, a lot. He's not going to let you slip out of his fingers. He's already obsessed with you. His princess.

Six weeks later, you married him.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

[obxlovers-posts]

Pretty in pink

Warnings- smut 18+

Summary- cute lil fluff rafe being sweet. Sarah’s friend stays at her house with rafe

Requests are open! :)

Word count- 1,272

-

Sarah sets down a small box with different nail polishes next to me on the couch. I reach in pulling a couple out looking through them

"Take them all, I haven't used them and don't wanna waste"she says

Rafe sits beside me holding his hand out I look at the nail polish in my hand and hand them to him. I watch him shake his head and put back the dark blue.

"I'm gotta go, John B needs me. You want me to run you home?"sarah asked rafe looks at me

"Uh, no I can wait here"i say giving her a smile

"I likely wont be back"she says slipping her shoe on

"I'll make sure she gets home"rafe says still looking through the colors. Sarah doesn't fuss, she also doesn't like her brother, but she knows he won't let anything happen to you.

Being Sarah's best friend means you've spent a lot of time in the mansion and a lot of time spent around rafe. Sometimes it felt like you knew him better than Sarah who would blow him off or argue with him. With you it's like he is a different person and Sarah can tell which is why she trusts him with you. On the other hand she knows you and how you light up around him or how you get shy all the little things just as you know of him.

"We can do something tomorrow"Sarah says hearing the honk from the Twinkie

"It's fine Sar"I say before she heads out the door

Rafe grabs my leg from beside me tugging it so I'm facing him with my feet in his lap and he holds up a pale pink nail polish to my foot. I smile to him as he smirked to himself placing the box aside. Not what I would've chosen but he likes it

He takes my foot in his hand rubbing circles on the bottom. He starts painting my toes and surprisingly it wasn't a disaster. He wipes off the extra leaving a pale pink stain on his finger. I watch his hands as he switches feet letting the other one dry. I look at his gold ring it's usually on his index finger is now on his middle finger I scrunch my brows.

"You okay?"he asked looking at me as my eyes meet his

"Your ring it’s different"I say nodding my head

"Sometimes I play with it and move it around"he says finishing my toenails he brings my foot closer to him blowing on it making me giggle

"Don't mess it up" he groans as I wiggle

"How much time do you spend looking at my hands?"he smirked

"What?"i ask

"You noticed my ring. "he says looking at me in between blowing so the nail polish dries. My mouth is dry and my heart is racing. I adore the look in his eyes.

“I notice a lot about you”I say he looks at me before tapping my toenail

“All dry”he says pulling it closer to him placing a kiss on my ankle and kisses on the inside of my calf

"Rafe"I say as he leans up his hand following his lips on the other side of my leg pushing it closer to his face kissing my knee

"Hmm"he hums against my skin as his face moves up to my thigh my head falls back trying to hide the smile. He’s usually touchy but this is different and it’s bringing butterflies to my stomach

"I wanna see you pretty girl"he says I lean my head back up biting the inside of my lip he smiled his hands trail down to the hem of my summer dress pushing it back. I try to back myself up but his hands slip on my ass pulling me back to him

"Rafe not on the couch someone could see"I whisper

"Let them watch"he says peeking up to me as his hands work the lace on my underwear tugging them towards himself I lift my foot and he tosses them on the floor

His face returns to the inside of my thigh my head falls back once again as he gets closer I feel him stop and his hand wraps around my throat. The cold ring making me go crazy and I swallow as he leans above me rubbing my clit with his other hand

"What did I say" he says pushing his lips into mine as his finger slips into me making me moan in his mouth he quickens his pace adding another finger

"My girls so wet"he says and I can see the lust dripping in his bright blue eyes he moves back down my body his mouth hovering over my exposed pussy. He slides his finger back in until I’m met with the cold hard metal of his ring I groan my hand finding his and pushing it deeper

“You like my ring inside you?”he asked tilting his head

“I like you inside me”I say watching his eyes Subconsciously moving myself closer he removes his finger replacing it with his tongue sending a rush through me. His hands hold my hips causing me to clench harder around his head. My hands quickly find his hair. He groans wrapping his hands under my ass cheeks pulling me up with him I wrap my legs around him

He packs me upstairs to his room laying me on the bed quickly taking his shorts and boxers off.

He pushed me back on his bed towering over me he rubs his dick on my stomach trailing down before slowly pushing himself in I gasp taking him in I wrap my hands in his hair pulling his face to me kissing him. Moans escaping into his mouth and he pulls away shaking his head

"Rafe"I say panting trying not to moan his hand squeezes my boob

"Let it out pretty girl"he whispered and I didn't hold it back as he thrusts harder into me. He stops lifting my legs and placing them on his shoulders fixing himself and slamming back into me his hand returns to my throat I give him a smile

“That’s right my girl”he says throwing his head back with a smile he can’t hide

“R-Rafe”I moan trying to tell him I’m about to cum

“I know baby I feel it”he says and I melt around him his lips meet my neck sucking on it sweetly as his pace quickens. He rolls me over and lines himself up sinking back into me he pulls my hair towards him before he slows him pace his dick throbbing inside me as he finishes

“Take it all my girl”he says pushing himself all the way in I moan feeling him slide out and fall beside me onto his back. catching his breath and pulling me into him

"I'm glad Sarah left you to me"he says kissing the top of my head he holds my hand up sliding the ring off his finger and putting it on mine though it’s too big

“I promise you my girl you’re not just one of my toys”he says tilting my chin up placing a kiss on my nose giving me a smile

“I sure hope not Rafe Cameron”I say falling back into his ocean eyes twirling the ring on my finger

“You remind me of the color pink”he says his blue eyes shine and a smile spreads across my face he places his hand on my cheek rubbing his thumb on it pulling me closer for a kiss

[sericasong]

Sparkling・✦ drabble

adjective - shining with flashing points or gleams of reflected light, as the ocean or a faceted gemstone.・✦

So what if Keigo's single? So what if Keigo's not on the market? So what if Keigo's staring at a ring in a window and thinking of someone who he is decidedly not in love with?

What about it?

He didn't mean to stop on his walk, really.

It's late at night, enough that there's less fans around to consider his image or what every action could imply, and Keigo is standing in front of a jewelry store with his eyes on the display.

There's a wide assortment of items, of course. That's why it's a store. For anything other than jewelry to be present would be ridiculous.

His first attempt of many to rationalize falls when his eyes do- to what he knows caught his gaze in the first place.

The rings.

Faceted stones set in carefully polished metal, some engraved with artisan designs and others a simple band and all of them beautiful in their symbolism. Made to rest on a married hand, to be slid on a ring finger with tenderness and affection.

Keigo wonders idly what it's like, domestic life.

He wonders if it's like you.

Is it like when you get all worried for him after a harsh battle, fussing over every minor scrape or scratch?

Is it like when you enter his apartment with bags of snacks on your arms and a greeting on your lips, the ones he finds his attention caught by even hours after you're asleep on his couch?

Is it like when you brush away the particulates left on his coat after work as a fond smile creases your expression, gentle hands trailing over the fabric before they move to ruffle his mussed hair, a soft noise of amusement heard through his daze when he leans into the touch like an eager puppy?

He wonders about those hands of yours, which treat him so kindly without a second thought. He thinks about rings.

The eternal debate crops up again, questioning details he's never had the courage to attach to your cherished friendship.

Which metal would you want? What kind of design would you like? Between a spring or a fall wedding, which would you prefer?

Would you wear a dress or a suit?

His breath falters.

The idea of you in either one makes his chest feel like shaken soda.

Keigo catches himself before his thoughts can get any more... that. Any deeper in this hole he's digging with restless paws.

Any further in love with you.

Fuck.

He shakes his head and it doesn't clear, but the air on his face reminds him where he is.

Right. Just gotta finish patrol. Then I can get home and...

And what? Repress this sweetened warmth in his stomach yet again?

...Nah. And keep imagining your wedding. He won't acknowledge that fact, though. It'd be letting those stubborn feelings prevail.

A slow breath, and he keeps walking as he shifts his focus back to the duty he's born and bred for, returning to his sworn responsibility as the confident, capable number two hero who does not have a crush.

He memorizes the shop name, anyways.

Just in case.